


The Forest of Zephyr and Foxglove

by naeuioneonenine



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Mentions of graphic violence, Village boy hyuck, Witch Mark, Witches, future ships will be added, nct is about half half human/witch, tags and rating may change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naeuioneonenine/pseuds/naeuioneonenine
Summary: Donghyuck grew up hating the witches, who cursed and killed his mother and murdered dozens of villagers in wrath wrought by revenge. He’s never met one, but he carries a bundle of sticks and a box of matches in his pockets with him everywhere he goes, just like everyone else.Because if you see a witch, you should burn it to ashes.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	The Forest of Zephyr and Foxglove

**Author's Note:**

> henlo welcome to my new brain child and baby  
> hmm some notes:  
> sort of based on the idea of the salem witch trials so in the future there may be some more graphic violence? if there is i will change the ratings and everything and put a warning <3  
> i tried to make sure it was clear which members are human and which ones are witches but if its not i can make a list ^u^ for reference, ya know.  
> i also based some things on wicca but am not myself wiccan so if i get any of it grossly wrong pls let me know :(
> 
> enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "shallows" by daughter

Witches, as everyone knows, are products of the devil. Witches are damned, evil creatures who eat children and steal firstborns. Witches are ugly, awful things who hide in the woods and spit poison and cast dark spells on anyone who listens. They only cause unhappiness and unrest, and if you see one, you should burn it to ashes.

Donghyuck yawns, because he’s heard his father’s lecture about witches a hundred times. It’s always the same, fearmongering words laced with hatred. His father’s voice is loud and carries in the town hall from his position at the front, and half of the villagers are captivated and nodding intensely along and the other half are bored and not listening.

Jaemin is making faces at Jeno when the basically-mayor of the village isn’t looking, and Jeno is resolutely trying to ignore him. Johnny has a pamphlet about the dangers of sorcery covering his face and he’s lightly snoring. Jaehyun is watching Lucas do dramatic reenactments of the scenes that Donghyuck’s father is detailing from the far side of the hall, and Hendery is drawing patterns on Johnny’s arm with a pen. Chenle is quietly copying every word, but mocking and exaggerated, and Yangyang is trying not to laugh out loud at his high pitched squeaking. Yuta watches with amused eyes and shushes them with a wink whenever someone looks over. 

The sermon finishes, and his father isn’t a pastor but the way some of the village people look at him make him out to be a holy man. Their semi-regular town hall meetings always turn out this way even though they’re _supposed_ to be for discussing more urgent matters. _Our safety is the most urgent,_ his father says in his mind, _so we must kill the witches._

Donghyuck’s father didn’t always hate witches. Some of his neighbors tell him stories about the way his dad used to be, before what Donghyuck just calls the Event. The Event being his birth and the consequential death of his mother. Losing a mother to childbirth is, while tragic, unfortunately common, especially in a village like theirs where Johnny's father is the closest thing they have to a doctor. They used to have a midwife, and she was the one who was attending to Donghyuck’s mother when he was born. 

There were complications, people who were there say, something about the strain, something about the body. His mother didn’t even get a chance to hold him. 

His father, however, blames the Event on the witches. Because the midwife was a witch, and his father decided she was the easiest to blame. 

He was a maelstrom of fury, swept through the halcyon village and people who were there say he was a righteous paladin that night, brandishing an iron torch like a death sentence. He strode through the village in his honorable pursuit of the enemy.

The witches.

It’s not like there were many to begin with, but it was easy to sway the villagers to his side, because witches are by nature mysterious, cryptic, and are not controlled by the same whims as humans. They were outsiders already, outcasts, only kept around for their usefulness. 

At least, that’s what people who were there say. 

Not long after the Event, the Killings began. 

Donghyuck, and all the rest of them, learned about the Killings in school, taught by the same teacher every year, one who lauded praise of the purge. Their curriculum was centered on the justice that had been taken against the evil. Donghyuck only partially thinks his father is to blame. Humans, after all, seek a voice, a figurehead, to start a revolution. 

The witches were abruptly round up, quarantined, holed up in night-dark, bone-dry, hard-stone prisons because rumors say they draw power from their surroundings, from nature. And then, on what the village had deemed an auspicious day, they were burned alive. The earth in the village center is still burned, and Donghyuck remembers the smell of ashes as he played there with his friends, years after the Killings.

So Donghyuck grew up hating the witches, who cursed and killed his mother and murdered dozens of villagers in wrath wrought by revenge. He’s never met one, but he carries a bundle of sticks and a box of matches in his pockets with him everywhere he goes, just like everyone else.

Because if you see a witch, you should burn it to ashes.

.｡*ﾟ+‧͙･*｡☆ﾟ+.｡*ﾟ‧͙+

  
  


“Do you think he’ll ever have anything new to add?”

Donghyuck shrugs in Jaemin’s direction, squinting at the bright summer sun. “I dunno. I mean, we haven’t seen a witch in years so it must be working.”

“I mean, there was that time when Jisung-”

“Don’t,” Donghyuck says sharply, because the name rings like a discordant note in his ears. “Don’t bring him into this.”

Jisung used to be one of their friends, younger than the rest but adored even if some of his habits were strange. Used to be, because one midsummer night he was gone, the only sign of him leaving the shoes left at the edge of the wood, tossed aside and disregarded. It makes Donghyuck sick to imagine the poor boy taken by witches in the middle of the night, defenseless and scared. He hopes Jisung’s still alive, but if the stories about the witches are true, he’s become meat and bones for soup and stew.

“Sorry,” Jaemin grumbles, because he’s an optimist and Jisung is just missing, he insists, he’ll come back. “The point is your dad doesn’t have any new stories! You’d think it’d get less impactful. I don’t get why Mrs. Kim always looks like he’s shown her the light.”

Donghyuck shrugs again because he’s used to it. “I dunno.” They make their way past the village center, and Donghyuck breathes in the familiar, comforting smell of scorched earth. A few kids play on the mound of dirt. “I gotta head home and make dinner. Dad’s probably already there and he can’t cook to save his life.”

“Okay,” Jaemin says, and gives him a high-five before parting ways, jogging off in the direction of his house. “See you later, Hyuckie!”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes but waves anyways, heading to his own home on the outskirts of the village. For someone who hates the forest as much as his father does it’s surprising they’ve never moved, because their house sits on a little hill, pressed up against the very edge of the forest. But if he had to guess it’s because his mother lives on in the house, even twenty years after her death. His father is sentimental, maybe to a fault, and refuses to let Donghyuck touch any of her old things. Not that he really wants to. He never knew her after all.

He used to get jealous of the other kids with their moms and dads, angered by the pitiful looks he and his father got. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t have a mom, it was the witch who killed her. But he doesn’t miss what he never had. Plus, Jeno’s mom practically adopted him anyway. 

His father is a different story. Stuck in the past, sometimes he stares at Donghyuck for hours, muttering something about how much he looks like her. There were a terrible few years where he seemed to blame it on Donghyuck, because he always needed someone to blame. He doesn’t anymore. Maybe it’s acceptance, maybe its weariness from bearing his anger like a cross for so long. 

That’s what he’s done, Donghyuck thinks, pushing the gate open and stepping around an overturned pot, probably from their cat chasing something through the bushes. His father burned the witches, and when he finished, burned himself instead. But he’s a good father, kind to Donghyuck and his friends, and taught him all he knows. 

He’s all the family Donghyuck has, after all. 

He’s halfway through making dinner when his father comes home, dropping with a heavy sigh into a chair at their table barely big enough for two. Another antique from when it was just him and Donghyuck’s mother living here. 

“Tired?” Donghyuck asks, ladling stew into a bowl and slipping some chopped vegetables in. 

“Always,” is the answer, and then, “Junhyung thought he saw something in the woods yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“Says he saw a witch doing magic along the border of the woods,” his father continues, thanking Donghyuck for the food. “Bent over a pile of glowing sticks and mumbling something in tongues.”

“Do you think it’s actually a witch?”

“Who knows?” His father shakes his head, pouring Donghyuck a glass of water. “It’s possible. One of their cursed days is sometime this month. Maybe it is. I always felt like there were more of them.” He looks out the window into the darkness of the trees. “Maybe they’re out there, festering like an infestation.”

Donghyuck doesn’t tell his father he wishes he wouldn’t think so much about the witches. “Oh. So what will we do? If it is a witch?”

His father blinks, turning away from the window, and there’s something missing in his gaze when he says, “We’ll kill it, of course.”

.｡*ﾟ+‧͙･*｡☆ﾟ+.｡*ﾟ‧͙+

“You were seen,” Taeyong hisses, dragging Mark by the arm, flitting through the forest too quickly for Mark to keep up. “By a human! How could you be so careless? This close to Litha! Gods, Mark.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark says again, for the tenth time. “I didn’t mean to get so near to the edge of the trees. Honest.”

“I know,” Taeyong answers, still bounding between the leviathan trunks that mark the beginning of the true woods. “I know you wouldn’t do something that careless on purpose, but you did. The humans are not rational, Mark, they don’t think before they launch themselves headfirst into conflict.” He brushes his fingers along the leaves as they go, finally slowing to a quick walk. “The trees remember, Mark, they remember the way the humans burned us. It is not a grudge easily forgiven.”

“Do you hate the humans?” Mark asks, and Taeyong sighs.

“I don’t hate the humans, Mark, I hate what they become when they set their eyes on a goal. And for some of them, the goal is death.”

“Are you scared?”

“Terrified,” Taeyong whispers as they emerge into the wide clearing. Mark remembers the wide-eyed fear on the other witch’s face when he caught sight of the human staring at them from beyond the woods and the way he had clutched at Mark’s wrist as if afraid he would be pulled away and into the sunlight. Because Taeyong _knows._ He saw the horror wrought by fear. He smelled the ashes of their brethren, their parents, their families, in the village center. He remembers the fire. 

“What are you terrified of?” 

Mark jumps, surprised, and Taeyong just shakes his head, frowning at Ten where he hangs upside down from the branches of a tree. “Not now, Ten. This is serious.”

“Oh, was there another magpie attack?” Ten teases, laughter dying when Taeyong’s expression only deepens.

“No. A human saw Mark.”

Ten stops swinging on his branch and jumps off, landing on his feet. “A human?” 

“I’m sorry,” Mark says again, and Ten frowns.

“What were you doing that close to the humans?”

“I found some hickory trees,” he mumbles, eyes cast down. “And since we don’t have many of those near here, I was really excited, and then the branches wouldn’t cooperate, so I had to cast a spell to keep them from withering, and then the human walked past. I didn’t even realize I’d gone that far. I didn’t mean to.”

Ten sighs, running a hand through his hair and he and Taeyong share a gaze. “I see. Uh, why don’t you go find Renjun and give him those hickory branches?”

Mark knows enough to know when he’s being gently dismissed, and nods, head hanging. Taeyong puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. When Mark looks up at him he’s got a soft smile on. “It’ll be okay, Mark. Don’t worry too much, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, hitching his satchel up over his shoulder and listening to the hickory branches complain. He can’t hear the whispers of the plants as well as Renjun or Doyoung, but their constant hum is enough to distract him. He pushes forward a few more steps until he enters the heart of the clearing, where magic thrums through the earth and the air changes, charged and comforting and Mark is _home._

He catches sight of Kun and Taeil leaving one of the storage lodges, holding baskets of dried flowers, and one of the baby witches toddling behind them with his chubby arms full of what might just be grass, Mark can’t tell from the distance, but the sight makes him smile. When Kun turns to make sure the youngling is following him he catches Mark’s eye and waves. Sicheng calls greetings down at him from his treehouse, layers of mushrooms climbing up to his home, carved deep in the wood of an ancient tree.

A little bird whizzes past Mark’s ear and seconds later Jungwoo lunges past, laughing and chasing his familiar. 

“Hey, Mark!”

“Hey, Jungwoo,” Mark says, but the other witch is already gone. He barely stops himself from running into someone standing in front of him, and turns, an apology on his tongue.

“Sorry- Oh, Doyoung.”

“What happened?”

“Hello,” Mark says wryly, and is lucky Doyoung is used to him enough to just roll his eyes. 

“Hello. Why did Taeyong have to go chase you down? Is he back? Is he okay?”

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, he’s fine. Uh, there’s- it’s kind of a story, but he and Ten are talking about it just over there. I’m sure Taeyong would hate for you to interrupt.”

Doyoung shakes his head, exasperated. “Thank you for telling me. Renjun’s practicing archery.”

“He’s always practicing archery,” Mark mumbles, and Doyoung agrees at least on this. “Did he remember his gloves this time?”

“No, but I made him go back and get them,” Doyoung says fondly. “I don’t want him to have blisters during Litha.”

“Thanks.” Mark hitches his branches up, and dips his head before he leaves because as close as they are Doyoung is still his senior and if any of the Council were watching they’d grumble about disrespect again. He heads in the direction of the range, and can hear the distinct thump of arrows into straw before he even gets close enough to see Renjun.

His bow is almost as tall as he is, and his posture is flawless, barely even acknowledging Mark’s presence before letting another arrow slip through his fingers, landing to the left of the center of the target. Mark drops his bundle on the ground and slings his own bow off from over his shoulder, smaller and more compact.

But then again, he thinks, notching an arrow, the targets he’s aiming for are only across the range. Renjun’s shooting to hit targets set up on a hill almost seven hundred paces away.

“Welcome back,” his best friend says, glancing at him. “You’ve caused a commotion again.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m already in trouble with Taeyong, which means soon Doyoung, and then Taeil, and then word will get to the Elders and they’ll be angry and I probably will have to go back to washing vegetables for a month.” He pulls back and lets the string of the bow snap, and knows the arrow is going to miss the target before it’s even left his fingers.

Renjun laughs, and just because he can, shoots Mark’s arrow out of midair. “I don’t know why they make you do it. You aren’t good at it and we always have to wash them again in the kitchen.”

Mark thumps the back of Renjun’s knees with his bow and laughs when it makes him miss his targets on the hill entirely. “Whatever. I brought you some hickory branches.”

“Oh! You shouldn’t have,” Renjun says, grinning and unbraces his bow, swinging it over his shoulder. “Where’d you find them?”

“A ways out of the clearing, and thus why I’m in trouble. A human saw me trying to get the branches to let me gather them without wilting.”

“A what?” Renjun pauses, looking up at Mark from where he’s squatting next to the pile of branches. “A… a human?”

“Yeah.” Mark drops to the ground beside him, sighing and laying back in the grass, feeling it rustle and sway. “It could mean really bad news.”

“What means bad news?”

“Oh, Jisung!” Renjun stands, and whacks Jisung lightly on his head. “How nice to see you here! Missed seeing you at your lessons today.” The sentiment only thinly veils the sarcasm, and it’s amazing that he doesn’t cave to the younger’s pout. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung says with a grin, and Renjun rolls his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you!”

“You won’t,” Renjun replies tiredly, resigned, and Jisung shrugs. 

“What means bad news,” he repeats in lieu of responding. “What were you guys talking about?”

“A human saw Mark,” Renjun says carefully, exchanging a glance with Mark. “While he was at the edge of the woods.”

Jisung blinks, and then drops onto the ground next to them. “Oh.” He wiggles his bare toes into the damp dirt, smiling when the grass rustles out of the way. He brushes his fingers through the plants, stirring the sod up with his fingertips. “Humans, huh?”

“Jisung,” Mark starts, and Jisung waves a hand.

“It’s okay, Mark, that was a long time ago. I don’t regret leaving the village at all. I’m happier here, I think. No, I know I am.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss living with the humans?” Jisung shakes his head, taking a handful of dirt and shaping it into a rough imitation of a flower. “No. Not really. I miss my friends sometimes, I guess, but I have a new family here.” He blows the dirt away and drops the daisy left behind onto Mark’s head. “They probably would have killed me when they found out. I like it here much better. I don’t have to wear shoes.”

“Right,” Mark says, grinning, and ruffles Jisung’s hair. “Well, anyways. I think you’re better off here.”

“That’s just because you want someone to bully,” Jisung grumbles good-naturedly, pushing Mark’s hand away. “What are we gonna do about the human?”

“Nothing,” Doyoung says, emerging out of the brush, jewelry catching the setting sun. “You’re going to do nothing.”

“It was hypothetical?” Jisung tries, and Doyoung rolls his eyes, hands on his hips.

“Hypothetical or not, don’t even think about it. Renjun, Jisung, Kun wants your help in the herb greenhouse. Mark-”

“Yeah,” Mark says, sighing. “I’m sure the Elders want to talk to me.”

“I’m sure they will, but for now just Taeyong and Kun are waiting for us. You’re not in trouble.”

“That’s what they always say before they tell you you’re in trouble,” Jisung whispers conspiratorially, and Doyoung pretends he doesn’t hear him. 

“Good luck,” Renjun murmurs, grabbing Jisung and his bow and then dragging the youngest away in the direction of the greenhouses.

“You aren’t in trouble,” Doyoung says again, only half-reassuring. “At least, not with us. I can’t speak for the Elders.”

Mark nods and gets to his feet, and Doyoung catches the daisy before it falls, smiling at it. 

“Jisung’s gotten a lot better, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Mark agrees, and watches Doyoung blow the petals into the wind. “He seems happier.”

“I’m sure,” Doyoung hums, and Mark follows him back into the main clearing. “It’s never good for a young witch to ignore and push away their magic. He’s lucky there weren’t any serious repercussions from suppressing it for so long. Let’s go. The others are waiting.”

.｡*ﾟ+‧͙･*｡☆ﾟ+.｡*ﾟ‧͙+

Donghyuck is awake long after his father has gone to bed, even though he already finished cleaning up. He sits at the table, staring at the wick in the lantern as it shrinks over time, ash falling into oil, and imagines what things would look like if they were different. He blinks and the moon is high, practically full, bathing the trees and wilting flowers that only Donghyuck cares for in white. It’s warm and there are fireflies out, flitting across the grass. 

He sighs, extinguishing the lantern, and stands, pushing back in his chair when something catches his eye from across the yard. Eyes, peering at him from the bushes curiously. Donghyuck frowns, stepping over to the window to get a better look, and the eyes follow his movements.

 _Donghyuck,_ he hears, and Donghyuck jumps.

“What? Who’s there?”

_Donghyuck, don’t you want answers?_

There’s no one in the house with him aside from his father, sleeping upstairs, and Donghyuck shakes his head. He’s tired; it must be getting to him.

_Donghyuck, we can tell you what happened._

“Nothing happened,” he mutters, trying to block out the voices, wherever they’re coming from.

_Donghyuck, look at us._

His eyes are drawn upward and out, back to the eyes in the woods, and they look almost familiar, a shape and color he swears he recognizes. 

“No,” he says, “no. This- this is witchcraft. Begone, you aren’t welcome on this land.”

_Donghyuck, we have the answers. Come ask us your questions._

“I don’t have any questions.”

The eyes seem to come closer, and are joined by the shadow of a nose, a jaw, an entire face taking shape in the darkness.

_Donghyuck, we know you have questions, just come closer so we can see you. We miss you, Donghyuck, I miss you._

The face staring at him from the forest makes some sort of ache build in Donghyuck’s chest and he barely catches himself from opening the door and following the voice, warm and comforting.

“No! Stop tempting me,” he grits, wrenching his hand away from the door handle. “I won’t come out there.”

_Donghyuck, I just want to see your face once, see how well you’ve grown up._

“You aren’t my mother.”

The voice sighs, and the eyes turn downwards. _Donghyuck, we know. We can’t be your mother, but we do know her. Donghyuck, come ask your questions._

Donghyuck closes his eyes for a breath and when he opens them he’s outside, on the front porch of his house. “Stop it. Leave me alone.”

_Donghyuck, you’re so close to us. We just want to see you. So close, Donghyuck, so close to us._

He isn’t moving, he swears, but somehow Donghyuck’s getting nearer and nearer to the edge of the trees, pulled along by some force he can’t see or feel. “Let go of me-”

_Donghyuck, come with us. Come with us, Donghyuck._

There’s a hand around his ankle, long, spindly fingers wrapping around his leg, and before he can manage to scream for help, for anything, the hand yanks him to the ground and drags him into the darkness. 

“Stop- Oh! Stop- please stop screaming,” someone says, and Donghyuck slowly becomes aware of the ground beneath him, the wet grass between his fingers, and the ache in his throat. “Gods, with how scared you humans are of witches you’d think you’d be more careful around pixies! Stop shouting, I’m trying to help you!”

There’s a hand over Donghyuck’s mouth and oh, the piercing noise was coming from him. He fights against whoever is holding him, sinking his teeth into the skin of the hand.

“Ow! That hurt,” the thing says, and to its credit, it sounds wounded. “Why’d you do that! I saved your life!”

“Fuck you,” Donghyuck spits, rolling over and away before opening his eyes slowly. “You were the one who tricked me and lured me into the forest and now you probably…” his tirade cuts off when he sees the thing, now clutching a hand to its chest. It doesn’t look like a thing, and it doesn’t look like the face from the woods. It’s a boy that looks almost Donghyuck’s age, but it has already tricked him once before. Donghyuck grasps around in the dirt until his fingers close around a rock, brandishing it in the thing’s direction. 

“I did not! Last time I try to help an idiot human,” it mutters, eyeing Donghyuck warily like he’s the dangerous one. 

“Oh,” Donghyuck scoffs, desperately buying time while trying to subtly survey his surroundings. “That’s a likely story. And why should I believe you?”

“I could just leave you here and let the pixies come back,” the thing says, rolling its eyes. It’s pretty cute, Donghyuck notes, and then shakes the thought away.

“And how do I know you aren’t a pixie? Or that it wasn’t you who stole me from my backyard?”

“I’m not a pixie,” it says, frowning, and Donghyuck’s laugh cuts off in his throat when he tries to sit up, a sudden pain in his stomach overtaking him as the adrenaline slowly fades.

“What- what did you do to me?” He gasps, and reaches for his shirt to see where the pain is coming from. The thing’s eyes widen and it snatches Donghyuck’s wrist before he can grab the fabric. 

“Don’t! Wait, don’t touch it. Are you hurt? I should have known,” it says, and Donghyuck fights against his hold, the burning sensation spreading across his chest. “Calm down, your heart rate is making it worse.”

“‘Calm down’? You’re telling me to calm down?” Donghyuck laughs, wincing when the movement twists in his torso. “Easy for you to say-”

“You really have to calm down before it reaches your heart,” the thing says, nervously, and Donghyuck catches sight of an inky darkness spreading down his arm and curling around his fingers. “I don’t know what kind of spell the pixies cast but it doesn’t look good-”

“I’m trying to calm down,” Donghyuck grits, “but it’s kind of hard to do right now, sorry.” It’s nearly excruciating now, fire racing just under his skin.

“Okay, um- okay, okay. I can do this. Um, actually, I don’t know. Taeil would know what to do. Uh- I- I’m gonna- we gotta- hold on!” The thing is panicking, which is kind of funny to Donghyuck, watching it flutter its hands around and blink. It’s the last thought that passes through his mind before black seeps over his vision and he falls back into the grass. 

“What was I supposed to do?” A voice hisses, and Donghyuck vaguely recognizes it as the thing from before.

“I don’t know! Not have brought him back here?” A new voice argues. “The Elders are going to be furious, Taeyong is going to have your head for this-”

“The pixies definitely would have killed him!”

“That would be his own fault then! Even the dumbest humans know not to talk to pixies this close to Litha!”

Donghyuck can take a lot of things but he doesn’t appreciate being called dumb, so he pushes out a breath that sounds more like a groan and tries to force his eyes open. The two voices immediately stop, and then resume again in a whisper.

“He’s waking up! What are we supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t think this far ahead-”

“Obviously-”

“But I wasn’t just gonna leave him there to die!”

“You very much could have just left him there! It’s not our problem if a human gets lost in the woods and dies! Are you crazy?”

Donghyuck thinks maybe he likes the thing from before better than this new one because at least the first voice doesn’t seem content to let him die. He tries again to open his eyes and succeeds, barely managing to force his eyelids up. He squints, trying to take in his surroundings, and flinches back when a bright light is shoved in his face.

“I should put him back to sleep-”

“No, Renjun, hang on a second! Goddess-” Fingers close around the light and it vanishes, disappearing between the digits. The face of the first thing comes into view, obscured by the lingering burn from the light. “Are you… are you okay? Human?”

The other thing, Renjun, groans, visible just behind the first one. “Who cares! We have to get him out of here, Mark, before someone sees him!”

Mark frowns at the other one, and Donghyuck figures they probably aren’t pixies. He doesn’t know what they are but they look like mostly normal boys, aside from the amount of jewelry dripping off of Renjun’s neck and fingers. 

“Excuse me,” Donghyuck interrupts, voice rough, and both of them look at him. “I’m confused.”

Renjun mutters something under his breath and shakes his head, while Mark cautiously peers closer. “Confused? Did you hit your head?”

“Of course he’s confused,” Renjun says, “he got dragged into the forest by pixies and then a witch happened to pass by and save him before bringing him into the center of their very hidden village and put everyone in a lot of danger. I’d be confused, too, and I’m not even the one who was dumb enough to even answer pixies.”

Donghyuck sputters, trying to sit up to defend himself but Mark gently presses him back down. “Don’t uh, move too much.”

He’ll save his words for Renjun for later. “What happened to me? What did the pixies do?” He processes Renjun’s words and then it clicks. “Witches?”

Renjun rolls his eyes and Mark nods, smiling. Maybe he means to be reassuring, but Donghyuck knows what witches do, knows that they’ll strip his bones and leave them to dry. He swallows, gaze flicking between the two of them, and carefully weighs his options. He slowly feels for the box of matches he keeps in his pocket, thankful, for once, for all the fear and paranoia his father has instilled in him. “Um,” he says, because the _things_ (he changed his mind again) are still looking at him, expecting him to speak. “Okay. What did- uh, what did the pixies do?”

“They were going to take you into their Grotto,” Mark answers, and he glances around for something, still talking. “Probably for some sort of ritual. They get more… aggressive as the full moon approaches, plus with all the preparations for Litha happening. They don’t usually take humans, usually, animals of some sort, but the one that had you when we found it was particularly malicious.”

“Right,” Donghyuck says, drawing the box into the palm of his hand. Renjun glances at him, face still closed off.

“And it managed to get into your head, probably because you were talking to it directly, and then scratched your Fate line, you know, on your palm, and started pushing its magic into your veins. You’re welcome, by the way, for saving your life.”

Donghyuck would rather be dead than have to thank witches, so instead he nods, carefully extracting one of the matches and holding it between his fingers. Mark smiles again, and he’s holding some sort of stone, drawing it nearer to Donghyuck’s arm. 

“I just need to make sure that there’s not any lingering behind, because the pixies could come back for you-”

“Don’t touch me,” Donghyuck hisses, kicking his foot out to catch Mark in the chest, ignoring Renjun’s shout. He scratches the match across the striking surface, and the spark smells of sulfur. The flame grows, and it’s not much but Donghyuck knows, he _knows,_ that even a match can defend against a witch. Mark stumbles back, eyes going wide, and he stares at the flicker between them. 

The room is silent for a moment, and Donghyuck debates throwing the lit match at them and hoping it catches one. And then Renjun laughs. 

“What- are you doing,” he says between breaths, supporting himself with one hand on the table. “What- is that, is that a match? What were you planning on doing with a _match_ dear Goddess you’re dumber than I thought.” He cackles, gasping. “Did- did you think you could, ahahah, did you think you could burn us with a match? A _match_???”

Mark starts to snicker, breaking out into a fit of giggles. Donghyuck feels his face heat up. “Stop- don’t laugh,” he snarls, trying to keep his hand from shaking. “I’m not kidding. Back off.”

“He’s serious!” Renjun almost shouts, clutching his stomach. “Oh Gods, he’s serious. Look, human,” he says, and walks undeterred over to Donghyuck. “You’re sorely mistaken if you think a match could fend us off.” He licks his fingers and then reaches out, pinching the flame between his thumb and forefinger, extinguishing it. The last vestiges of light flicker in his irises. “Stupid, foolish human.”

“But,” Donghyuck stutters, scrambling to light another match that Renjun gently blows out with glee, and the glitter in his eye isn’t from the fire anymore. “But witches- you have to be burned!”

Mark finally gets his laughter under control, and steals the box of matches from Donghyuck’s hand, whispering something before tossing the entire thing in a metal cauldron, where it flares up and burns bright in cerulean flames. 

“Show off,” Renjun mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “You didn’t need to do that. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your idiocy, bringing the human here.”

Mark shrugs, mirth still lingering in his smirk. Then he turns back to Donghyuck, and his heart thumps in his chest.

“What are you going to do to me?” He hisses, hoping his fear doesn’t bleed into his voice. “My- my father will find you, if you do anything to me. He’ll kill you, all of you.”

“We aren’t going to-”

“I’m going to boil your skin and peel your eyes out,” Renjun murmurs, the fire casting shadows across his face. “Add them to my midnight stew.” Donghyuck stares at him.

“Renjun, stop it,” Mark sighs, shaking his head. “We don’t do that to humans. Or anything, for that matter. We aren’t going to do anything to you,” he says to Donghyuck. “If we were, we already would have, don’t you think? Maybe while you were powerless under the pixie’s influence?”

He has a point. “So? You could have been waiting for me to wake up. Witches are cruel and heartless, I wouldn’t be surprised if you preferred your victims awake to struggle,” Donghyuck spits.

“He’s clearly never going to listen,” Renjun says, words directed at Mark but gaze trained on Donghyuck. “His head is full of baseless human notions. Listen, human,” he continues, leaning closer. His eyes are a deep, swirling purple, and Donghyuck has to tear his stare away before he gets bewitched. “The only reason you fools were able to kill so many witches was that you tied them to stakes and lit pyres under their feet. We burn the same as humans. Consider yourself lucky that Mark and I bear your kind no great ill will because if we did, you’d be long dead. Mark wanted to make sure you didn’t fall prey to the pixies and saved your life. I think we should have left you to your fate. And now you have a few choices,” he says, nodding at Mark, who is still holding the pearlescent stone from before. “One, you let Mark make sure the actual danger is out of your blood. Two, I give you back to the pixies, or three, you chance your luck getting out of this forest on your own with no protection and no clue of where you are. You pick.” He shrugs and leans back. 

Mark shakes his head again but doesn’t argue, watching Donghyuck for his answer. 

Witches are self-serving and horrid, Donghyuck reminds himself, repeats the words his father has taught him under his breath. But the phrases and verses he’s heard his whole life are about ugly, twisted things, and the witches before him are nothing more than normal looking boys. 

Before he can give himself a headache laboring over the thought that witches are liars, Donghyuck nods, stretching his arm out towards Mark with a scowl in Renjun’s direction. 

“Fine, witch. But as soon as you try anything funny, I’ll drag you into the fire myself.”

Mark exhales, placing the stone in the middle of Donghyuck’s palm. There’s a tingling sensation that travels up his arm but Mark pins his wrist down when he tries to yank it away, giving him a small smile. “There’s only a bit left. Sorry, I know it’s not very pleasant.”

“It’s nothing,” Donghyuck says resolutely, and Mark scoffs quietly. The stone loses some of its shimmer, drawing flecks of darkness out of Donghyuck’s skin. As much as he doesn’t want to, Donghyuck’s curiosity gets the better of him and he cranes his neck to see. Mark smiles and offers it to him.

It’s pretty; the darkness collects like a galaxy inside the stone and Donghyuck swears he sees it spiraling slowly. 

“Pixie magic can be either good or bad. They play on someone’s desires and greed, and sometimes that can turn out well and other times it can be deadly. They’re good at illusions and use it to lure beings into their traps. Litha is soon and the whole forest and her inhabitants can feel it, so they’re probably more powerful than usual to be going after humans,” Mark supplies as an explanation.

“What is Litha?” Donghyuck asks before he can stop himself. 

“It’s our celebration of the summer solstice. It’s for honoring the balance between the elements, and drawing energy from nature around us. It’s really beautiful.” Mark makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. “We spend a long time preparing for it. It’s among the best times to do special spellwork or harvest plants that are usually picky about when they want to be plucked.”

“ _One of their cursed days is sometime this month_ ,” he hears in his father’s voice. “Wait, so it was a witch?”

“What was a witch?” Mark tosses the stone to Renjun, who drops it in a basin of what looks like water. 

“Someone in my village saw a witch at the edge of the forest,” Donghyuck muses, and doesn’t miss the way Mark’s shoulders tense. “We haven’t seen one in a long time so I didn’t believe it. But it must have been.”

Mark runs a hand through his hair and casts a sheepish smile at Renjun, who raises an eyebrow but offers no help. Mark turns and the moonlight draws sharp lines down his cheek and jaw. 

“It was me.”

.｡*ﾟ+‧͙･*｡☆ﾟ+.｡*ﾟ‧͙+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always to nee for listening to me cry and shout and yell about this <3
> 
> thank you for reading!  
> comments always appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/naeuioneonenine)  
> I'm ambitiously saying 4 chapters pls dont hate me if it's more TT


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